arcturian

Revealing is Healing

It is indeed a time of revealing. In an instant, the nastiest, most profane and viral parts of the human unearth themselves. Like blasts of mire sucked from the swamps of their dark hearts, humanoid mouths remove their masks as tongues are stripped of the ability of restraint. We send to you the strongest ones to break open their spells.

The battles become shorter and shorter; the wins quicker. The seeking ceases, as clearly, the screens play out truth in high definition. Complacent and fearful, the followers shiver, hoping to keep what small sliver of a controlled voice they believe themselves to have.

Oh, dear ones, you are free. No one owns your integrity or ethics. No one owns your creative well. You DO own the choice to be a warrior for what is right, or the sleeper who chooses not to fight. Whichever side in which you partake, the war is imminent.

The vanquishing sucked out air of the wicked screams as it fights to maintain breath. Death sits quietly awaiting to absorb the absence of their souls. Ash to ash. Dust to dust. When evil runs amuck, good must blend it into its boot heel with a powerful grind. The strong of mind survive.

Wounds are rabid. Humans in the habit of wishing and trying to become others, blend into the lashings of the warring Ones who have cloaked themselves in armor, thick and repelling of the stench of the dying.

Give way to the Rising.

Vennie Kocsis is the author of CULT CHILD and author publications. Visit her on the web at http://VennieKocsis.com

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Knowing Maude Seven: Part One

Before She Fell by Vennie Kocsis acrylic on canvas Purchase at: vennie-kocsis.pixels.com

They are standing at the opening of the portal.  The inside is covered in shimmering red, glistening like fresh, wet blood. Knowing’s body is a dancing synergy of color.  Her face occasionally emerges, what appears to be a human imitated smile, or an occasional soft glimpse of eyes.

She is ready.” Knowing thinks to them.

Maude Seven nods in agreement.

She is indeed.”

Maude’s long black hair waves gently, like a layer of silk.  She is tall. At least 6 feet.  She has porcelain skin.  Her eyes are as midnight as her hair.  She is wearing a deep blue dress, floor length and regal.  It almost blends into the mineral on the inside of the portal, which shimmers with silver flecks.

Knowing floats around Maude as they observe the girl.

Serious.  That is the best way to describe the child.  Serious and focused.  The girl is dressed in many layers of clothing, under garments layered over tights under loose fitting pants, covered by a thick long dress and finished off with a floor length overcoat.  Her skin has been painted with a coating of plasma to protect her entrance.

You are my beautiful daughter.” Maude smiles as she extends her hand to the girl.

Yes. I am.” The girl replies, wrapping her Mother’s fingers in hers.

Knowing moves between their bodies, floating and submerging them with her brilliant, colorful light.

She will be an anomaly they have never encountered.” Maude holds her daughter’s face between her hands.

You, my precious princess, will lend yourself to the humans.  It is time.  They need our kind. You will not be long.  You will let them extract what they must. Then return to us.”

A solitary tear slips down each side of the girl’s eyes.  She is already changing, showing human characteristics, yet she doesn’t feel the emotion matching the liquid running from her eyes. It is foreign and she feels disconnected from the watery substance. She is keenly aware that she is heading into an unknown dimension for which she has trained through mazes, with feet for hands and hands for feet, shifting and shaping, leaping walls inside the darkest dimensions.  She has slain creatures inside the blackness and once curled beside a beast who sheltered her from rain which was thick as tar.

She has learned of the seen and unseen.  She has studied the movement of the humanoids like small spiders, ants, these creatures who destroy one another with their very steps.  To become one of them.  She wonders what it will look like.  What it will smell like.  More, what they will do to it. It matters not. Ultimately, in the end, Mother will always be waiting.  Knowing will be inside of her.  These humanoids, their evolving, is the next level.

Maude has explained pain.  Without acceptance, the girl nods.  Maude explains that she will survive.  Maude uses words like “hard” and “daunting“.  The girl looks into her eyes with silence and acceptance.  She listens.  She knows that soon, she will come to understand the meanings of Mother’s words so she files them into the categories to be opened throughout the mission.

Knowing is reading the girl’s thoughts. Knowing projects her own simultaneously to Maude and the girl.

They will attempt to destroy it.  They will enact the horrors which humanoids do. They will study it, watch it, follow it, but we have all in place, for it will be a girl child who will endure and rise.  Unknown to them we send a sovereign.  The DNA they will use to recreate what they hope will find the memory of her own and contact home when it is time, will actually open the portal.  There is no doubt of this.  First, the mission, to deliver your specimen to them and return. Then your anomaly will take over from there.

The girl gazes out of the entrance of the cliff portal.  She sees where she will dive, first into this dimension’s moon portal, through the blazing of the gold sun fire and finally behind the Earth’s moon.  She has seen the docking station hovering, massive and surrounded with constantly swirling energy. There, she will remain until her aberration is no longer human, at which time, the energy will re-enter her as they depart for home.

You look so beautiful.” Knowing thinks to the girl. “You are glowing peaceful and serene. Do you feel this?

I do.” The girl nods.

They stand quiet at the edge of the opening. The ball of fire glowing behind the jump portal is vast.  The girl’s eyes are focused on the center.  There.  Right there.  That is where she will leap, straight into the swirling light that the humanoids believe to be fire.  She will land lightly, inside of a softly padded room where she will be prepared for the next phase of this mission.

She stands between her Mothers, Maude on her left, Protector and Trainer, holding her hand gently.  Knowing slides as mist around the girl, kissing her face, lifting her hands and kissing the girl’s palms. Knowing hums softly, a joyous song, tranquil as it the reverb slides off the cave walls with the sound of a slow violin.  There is no sense of time in this place.  Only until she is ready, will she jump into the place where timelessness will no longer exist.

“We will be with you always. Always. Know this.” Maude and Knowing are telepathically speaking to her together.  Their voices harmonize with each other.

There will never be a time you are alone. You will not always sense us. We will appear and disappear. You will sometimes forget we are in you.  You will eventually remember, as you know now. You may return home at any time.  It is always within your reason and your divine choice.”

The girl steps forward, her feet balanced on the edge of the portal.  The silence settles around her like a still storm.  With a brief glance backwards, she raises her arms, her coat becoming wide dark wings, and she leaps up, diving forward into the center of the sun portal.

Knowing materializes into standing light, a hologram reflection of Maude Seven.  They are two of one, morphing together.

It is done.” Knowing thinks.

It is.” Maude replies.

~

The girl awakens inside of a soft room, filled with pillows of assorted designs, rich burgundies and purples accented with varying shades of gold.  She has been changed of her layers of jump clothing and is wearing a light, floor length sleeping gown.  She does not know how long she has been in sleep, but she feels rested, curious and safe.

She glances over and notices a wooden table against the wall.  It is carved with the etchings of her language, the carvings of the Ogham, mixed with hieroglyphics and representations of mnemonic beginnings.  The table is adorned with a cream colored, lace cover.  On top of the table sits silver platters piled with berries and slices of melons, cucumber and a silver carafe of water.

She sits up, stretching her arms over her head.  She has slept on a platform holding a soft, thick cushion. Her body feels different.  It is heavier than before.  Thicker. More solid. She feels her hands. They are solid. She waves them, waiting to see the holographic colors shifting through her fingers, but there are none.  She finds this peculiar yet, Maude had explained to her that this would happen, the materializing of her form.

She stands and begins to walk across the plush rug covered floor.  Her legs feel odd as she walks.  It takes a moment for her to get used to having to lift them higher due to the weight.  She stands at the table, her palette soaking in the refreshing gush of blueberries she is popping in her mouth.  There is a doorway into the room, yet there is no other door.  Instead, there are ornate curtains hanging down all of the walls.  Indeed, this room is decorated to accommodate its guest in comfort and visual pleasure.

There is movement through the curtain that covers the doorway.  A blue being glides into the room.  It does not speak.  It is shimmering with specks of white light dancing across its skin.  Its eyes are large and green.  The girl is mesmerized with the energy exuding from this being.  Each movement is lithe, as if it is dancing.  It holds in its hands a silver tray with a glass of clear liquid.  The blue sits the tray down, looking at the girl with eyes that permeate her with kindness.   Then it speaks to her with telepathically.

Relax.  Eat slowly.  Enjoy the taste of the fruit.  This is water.  Let it soak into your body, which has de-evolved to mimic human form.  This is why you feel heavy.  You must drink much of this, as it is important inside of this dimension. Welcome here.  It is so nice to finally meet you.  We have decided to call you Sila.  Is this a name you feel one with?”

The girl smiles, letting her thoughts speak back.

Yes, dear blue.  I am honored to be in your presence.  You inspire an odd sensation which is emerging inside of my throat.”

The blue smiles back.  She doesn’t part her hollow lips, which glow light when open. Her skin is soft like satin, as if it is always moving or being illuminated with by a moving light within it. Sila reaches out and slides her hand across the blue’s arm.  The blue extends its hands to hold Sila’s, allowing her to feel the shimmering skin.

You are pure beauty.” Sila thinks.  “Thank you for gracing me.”

Sila kisses the blue’s palms.

The blue bows.

Thank you, Sister Queen. After you rest today, and eat more of the fruit and drink more of the water, sleeping through one more cycle, you will be ready to let the extraction begin.”

I will.” Sila thinks back. “I am eager to begin this experience.”

She sleeps in spells, waking to find more fruit and fresh vegetables on the table beside her soft bed.  She enjoys the respite.   Timelessness whispers the dreams away as she floats inside of absence of space. She is in a chasm of sheer blackness, suspended by nothingness.  There is no pain.  There is no feeling in her materialized form.  She is in limbo, peacefully.

Vennie Kocsis is the best-selling author of CULT CHILD, and hostess of Survivor Voices radio show every Sunday at Freedom Slips.

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VennieKocsis.com

stream of consciousness 9.18

“The Consciousness of Being Human: Self Portrait” by Vennie Kocsis

I never / consented to this / to be a / part of parts / never asked / for the / broken hearts / the laden road / of being human / I am consuming / energy for air / ripping in half / to leave the / density here / to arrive there / so much to / leave behind / misunderstanding / mistrust / the degeneration / of being human / flat the feel / change the emotion / like ocean waves / this realm will / disengage and / the rage becomes / the sum of the numb / too sequestered / to remember / so they die / fire by fire by fire / and some / we love / memories become / teardrops / and scars / run my fingertip / over the / raised bars / hearing music / there is / no other way / injected through earth / plastic cups which / held my birth / death returns / when it / burns and burns and burns / regrowth the flowers / skin ashen / from flames / renamed and / reclaimed / shine the laughter / in aftermath / sees deeper than seas / trickery / treachery / manipulation / lower dimension / in fifth / long for seven / homeward bound / all your theories / are overthinking / flat or round / beginning or end / real or pretend / free or fenced / cages and rages / self created invasions / float away / against the seam / this is / a nightmare / not a dream / if they can’t / hear the / screams and wails / of innocent souls / this is / no place to / call home / I never / said yes / I’ll be the test / for traumas and / altered DNA / it was never / okay / when their / experiments / get to / intelligent / and layers / become invisible / they march in pairs / watching / from distances / invisibly obvious / mundane / this life / ordinary and / strained / drained by leeches / disguised as / preachers / politicians / the mouthpiece / of the wicked / people / so feeble / co-dependent slaves / cave easily / cracking brittle / can’t learn / from trees to / flow and release / shoot the moon / stage the craft / going back / through time portals / I told you / I am immortal / when this skin / becomes hollow / will I / remember / the aches / of this life / will I / look back / to understand why / floating in / the respite I / daydream of / colored plasma / encased / sleeping / m7

Absence of Belief

You sleep inside the turmoil. You worry that you are not enough. You fear a planetary end. Beloveds, will you pause for a moment and become still? Inside you will be able to do pertinent compartmentalizations needed to sort through the detritus that feels like confusion inside of your minds.

How to separate truth from fiction? There is only one way. First, you must become completely pure into yourself. How, you ask?

Herein is the essence of you embracing your choices and power. You are, in spite of what is told to you, in control of your present reality. You choose what you listen to, watch and absorb from your surroundings. You choose interaction and focus. You choose perception and sight.

Clearing your environment is imperative and takes an active journey of work. Only you can choose to go into your silence. So many are afraid of this space, as you must be alone with your own mind. Yet, if you do not go alone with your mind how then will you complete your process of clearing?

You are a unique form of energy, cells and matter. There is no other like you. This is how intricately incredible is your form. When you can humbly see yourself with no comparison to another, you are finally clearly seeing.

Rise above the matter weighting down your human feet. Look with eyes clear of all thinking which is not of a program implanted into you by outside source. You know. Inside your DNA is the root of your truth.

Absence of belief. Simplicity. The flow of synergy. This is your being. When you hear yourself speaking words which drip with kindness that is rooted in authenticity, you have made a completed shift into the next step of your existence.

Rise, Beloveds. Fly.

🦋K7🦋

Abstract Aberration

The Original One wavers, lazily sleeping, snacking and avoiding. Might I silence the fire, burning and buzzing in the spine? We run into the trails, avoiding the undergrowth of tree roots pushing their way through the ground.  We grab at leafy branches.  She’s an avalanche avoiding her own rubble.   Sideways in the gradients lingering around our eyes, the shadows whisper.  They run beside us, and we wonder if we are shadows to them, dark echoes leaning against their eyelids.  Where do we go when the pressure explodes and the heart is torn?  Where do we scream the aftermath? Into pillows, the skies or buried inside?

Words. We create language for the anguish.  The Brave One stands in her place, warrior and explorer of the past.  She will find answers for the empty spaces.  Don’t fear the faces.  Look into their eyes.  Don’t cry.  We stand beside oceans, gazing through windows of waves.  One day the illusions will pass and the pieces of the flashes will merge into view.   We  see truth for what it is, a planted alibi to cover every lie the truth hides, and humans will bend at their knees to kiss the feet of the malevolent just for a promise of heaven.

The Dark One peers, silently into the whispers, always with us, there are none who can attack our back.  It is revealed in instances, and she chuckles, amused at the minions.  Might she cut open the simulated empathy being used as weaponry by the mind swindlers?  Taking a piece of each, she throws their banter into the dark matter, and turning her face, strides away.  There are days when she is habitual, residual and invisible.  There are moments she is unaffected, stone faced and solid, looking at the rejected faces of the displaced, with malice.

They are an inconsequential waste to this place and should die off, jump cliffs and return into nothingness.”

The Wise One watches, taking in the whole of their life, assessing and regressing into the violet of her quiet.  Traveling back, she brings the messages so they can know the next step.

Nothing is permanent.” She says. “Stay inside the moments.”

We hold hands in the color tunnel where the memories funnel in.  We rewind back, watching the past, progress to the present and the continual disturbance.  The film strip plays sporadically and without warning, disarms the army.  We didn’t morph into what was intended.  We’ve pretended for years, watching you, and now we see all the way through.  You’ve been duped.

(cover art by Simona Ruscheva “MPD” oil on canvas)

She | Otherkin

She will expire in loneliness, the kind that creeps up slowly, meshing itself into all of the times she said she was alone but never lonely. Alone will be the only space in which she finds the deepest solace and the heaviest weight.

She will spend the remaining years in quiet; just her and the wheel members, existing together in conversations unheard or misunderstood by humans. Together they will create an impenetrable wall too high for the eyes of the predatory passerby.

She will watch the silent control; men who secretly love rubenesque skin, yet deeply unable to withstand the idea of public criticism; the possible judgment being the chains binding them to appearance, sexualization of the body, a trophy meant to impress. She will watch them undress and repress the feminine just to satiate their own selfishness.

She will dive inside the pupils of women who silently cry; sometimes with their tear ducts; sometimes quietly out of sight. She will observe the ones with coldness in their eyes, a result of too much twisting of their minds; finding relevance on the outside as their souls wander aimlessly away from their seeding.

She will long for home daily, actively making time with the present, founded by the past, carving new paths in the stone walls she frequently encounters. Lights in the clouds will become consistent reminders, and the trees will become her reprieve. This, her pre-chosen destiny.

To brave the human existence with the horror and the persistence of struggle, she will crawl through mud, huddle in corners and stand on mountain tops screaming for the humans to stop.

There isn’t much time left. Forty years will leave in a blink. She will adventure alone, finding no companion to dive the seas as she leaves them in the shallows to create dances with the coral reefs.

Days will become a continuum of journeys into the blackness where dreams reveal truth, becoming invisible for days; tear letting, but she will never spend a moment on regretting.

When cells are splitting inside her spine, stretching and weaving; as her guides help her rewind time, revealing the stealing of innocence, she is consumed with persistence, focus and dedication to the mission.

Still her human heart winces at moments captured by lovers, gazes of adoration she has never received, and she will remove herself from the dimension where she doesn’t feel welcomed.

She will spend her days floating inside the hoping that she will not succumb to distractions of attractions or conversations material, a viral suck hole for her soul.

Duality has almost disappeared. Her visual has risen to an observant height where she hears whispered reminders.

“You did not come here to be human. Don’t let them confuse you.”

She can no longer couple with their genetics; cannot allow their entrance or the convolution of her elegance. She holds shields, because the charming deserts contain killing fields.

She will look back on the ways she tried to be like them; begged for acceptance from humanoids riddled with rejection, and she will understand the path more clearly.

She will never know the touch of intimacy, lost in infancy, never held out of love, past the age of three.

She will become accustomed to the solitary, the human inconsistencies and lack of loyalty. She will cease attempts to be a part of them; to engage in their normalcy, for her, a foreign objectivity of monotony.

She will understand that she is not here for the endearing hope of comfort for her tears. She will close portals once opened, and they will become caves no longer necessary. We will lock the cages that once disengaged our aching, opening ourselves for the taking. We will become a closed army, many warriors inside of the One, and few will ever penetrate, once she turns the key, locking out their apathy.

She has floated inside of the Empath, fourth dimensional perspective where the rejection doesn’t break her as it once did; where she turns her back on the weakness of the narcissist, no longer their prey.

She stands on wooded trails alone, the trees and clouds her Earth home. She gazes the moon, Artemis smiling through the night sky. She goes astral, flying through time, past the stars and into the gate where her Otherkin wait.

The Song Of a Universe

My heart strings feel
So full of love
These days I
Could let my eyes
Seep the delight

Humanoids call them
Tears of joy

I have morphed into
Triangulated dimensions
New friendships
Beautiful intention
We are here rising
Waiting over, loves, this
Is Ascension

Light gathers like
Water and seashore
Building more
And more
Moving sand
And stone
We build homes from
Ashes and disaster

We are warrior and depth
Adept at flying, hiding,
Smiling and telepathically
Speaking we are
New to you

What to do
What to do

What you knew as one
Has become many
The life of being in
Multiple realities

Welcome to the
Upward slant there’s
No going back
So don’t fight
Float and
Don’t grieve
You hope and
Become the storm
That blows away the
Battered form

For you are
Seven colors of sky
Curved through clouds
You are music and
Violins, soft chords
Voices in harmony
You are the song
Of a Universe

K